


Calendar

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cockblocking, Erotic Calendar, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: Every now and then, MI6 liked to do charity and this year, they decided that erotic calendars were the way to go. Well, they didn't start off like that, but how else would they turn out when James and Alec participate? And then Mister December is Q.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a joke and I am pretty sure that I got this muse while working on the last chapter of 'The Nanny'. Thanks to the lovely ladies in the Hive Mind that helped keep this muse alive.

Occasionally, MI6 liked to make itself known to the public. It wasn’t as if the civilians didn’t know of their existence, a vast number of them taking selfies in front of their building, but they generally didn’t read or hear anything about them. MI6 was like an entity that allowed the mortals to simply have its existence in the back of their heads, working its special kind of media magic on them not to question if the latest information leak that put the spotlight on someone they’ve never head of or on someone they adored or the newest fallen dictator was the result of their meddling or not – America was of great help with that, the Yankees always managing to do something to bring the spotlight back to them if the world so much as glanced at another country. But once a year, MI6 pulled down their invisibility cloak and ordered the world to behold them.

 

They always went for the cliché charity cases but then again, with how horrible the world constantly was, how else could they bring a little bit of hope to the masses in exchange for praises and more puppets at the end of its strings? Sure, they were recently praised for how open-minded they were with the sexual preferences of the people they employed, but they did tend to chemically castrate them during WWII, so things had to be balanced out – never mind that they never would and never mind the fact that if an M from that period met the M from this period, literal shots would be fired.

 

Speaking of the current M, the man got the unfortunate luck of landing himself the position in very turbulent times. Being M when their building was in shambles, the public eye slowly starting to notice more than it was allowed, Nine Eyes almost making Orwell’s worse nightmare come true, guaranteed you a very pissed off Prime Minister breathing down his neck and demanding positive publicity.

 

As a result of that pressure, M held weekly meetings in search of the perfect stunt they could pull to bring in big bucks for whatever charity the PM’s dart embedded itself in. The balls, masquerade or otherwise, were all turned down because they were considered too cliché and obvious, and televised outings were out of the question because they would simply have to get stars and then people would be talking about those and not MI6.

 

And then M’s right hand woman, the secretary who helped carry the weight of the agency on her shoulders, and former field agent had an idea. “How about we do a calendar?” She had their curiosity – and scepticism, which was a must of a spy agency – so she went for their attention. “We’ll have people volunteering, of course, and our models will be a mix of the best looking of our former agents and people from departments that don’t do the field.”

 

“Do we use men or women for this?” Someone asked after whispers of approval died down and Eve grinned, cracking her knuckles.

 

“Both,” she said simply. “That will guarantee us access to all the markets and no one can say that we’re objectifying anyone as we’ll have both sexes take part in the photoshoot.”

 

That was the idea that brought the boring meetings to an end – for that year at least – and people outright fought for a chance to appear in the calendar, the management going out of their way to explain that the auditions had to be petty and superficial and Eve even having the participants sit down, read and sign documents in which they stated that they knew of this and that they would not hold any form of grudge for not being chosen and that they won’t sue MI6 in any form for this.

 

The women calendar was completed without as much as a hitch. It was sexual without being pornographic and the twelve ladies that they chose to grace the pages of their calendar and that were dressed up as the twelve Olympians – they gender-swapped left and right, but the participants would have been okay with crossdressing as well – were more than kind and gracious with each other, making the whole experience a pleasure for everyone involved.

 

But the miracle of something planned by MI6 actually going right stopped when it came to the men calendar.

 

To no one’s surprise, the former male double oh agents – who were now on back up or on bodyguard duties in the roosters – where the vast majority of their calendar months, but there were a few surprises here and there, such as the Quartermaster not only participating but even landing himself a month and being more than okay with the outright Playgirl turn the project suddenly took.

 

It wasn’t something that they had planned to do, the management and photographer more than okay with the men just appearing shirtless, but the former agents didn’t really know what the word ‘subtle’ meant and they either lowered their pants down enough not to really need them at that point, or outright took them off and used their props – which the photographer informed that MI6 would have to buy the second they made contact with the agents’ equipment– to not be outright naked.

 

But where they _really_ surprised of that outcome when James Bond and Alec Trevelyan were Mister October and Mister July respectively? Not really, but Eve still wanted to wrap her hands around their necks and strangle them as she knocked their heads – the ones on their necks – together just to see if she was going to hear an echo or not because to her, Q was the innocent younger brother who did not even know what the word ‘erotic’ mean, let alone ‘pornographic’ and she didn’t want to see him force himself to keep up with their perverted minds.

 

“You know, you don’t have to take the pictures; we can always find someone else to become Mister December,” Eve insisted on assuring Q, squeezing his hand softly despite the fact that the man was holding a blowtorch. “What you signed doesn’t force you to—”

 

Q snorted, shaking his head. “I know what I signed, Eve.” He tossed the blowtorch on the table in front of him and started to walk towards the changing rooms. “You made me read it, remember?”

 

He started to unbutton his protective overalls and Eve turned to give him his privacy, but didn’t leave the room. “I just don’t want you to feel _obligated_ to do this, Q. The agents are used to walking around naked but you…” She trailed off and mage a vague gesture which had Q arching his eyebrow and rest his hands on his hips.

 

“Miss Moneypenny, do you doubt that I have anything to bring to the shoot?” He asked slowly, the tone of his voice indicating that he was beyond offended.

 

And Eve laughed nervously, because that had been her second worry besides the one that he might feel constricted to take off his clothes for this – and it really wasn’t her fault, considering that Q tended to look like a poorly stuffed scarecrow and she rarely saw him eating anything while he was at work. “Well, Q, you would be on the same pages as former field agents and you just how well toned they are.” On that note, maybe they should have kept the Greek theme for their shoot as well. God knows they would have been forced to be more covered if they did.

 

She heard more rustling and saw the colourful shirt land on the floor before her before feeling the young man tap her shoulder. “Fine, then look at me without my shirt on and tell me that I have no place in the calendar and I’ll drop out.”

 

While Q gave off sexual vibes due to his hair that was eternally stuck on bed mode and because of his strikingly green eyes – his biggest fans being the dangerous duo formed of Alec and James – the scarecrow image was shared by everyone. So imagine her shock when she turned around and saw that he actually had muscles. They weren’t defined in the same way that the agents’ were, but they were there and it made her want to keep looking at him until she could draw him perfectly with her eyes closed.

 

“So?” Q asked, running an elegant hand down his chest as he lazily munched on the right temple of his glasses. “Do I have a place in your calendar, Miss Moneypenny, or am I too skinny?” He ended the question with a small pout and Eve’s throat completely dried up. Let it never be said that Alec and James didn’t have great tastes.

 

“I will forward you the shooting schedule, Mister December,” she rasped out, shaking her head in an attempt to snap herself out the trance that Q put her in.

 

But with those first two problems and fears out of their way, they moved on to the third – and biggest – problem: keeping a secret the fact that the person that the two deadliest agents in the entire history of MI6 revered as a god in their own way, was going to do a nude that everybody who paid was going to see.

 

She groaned internally, asking herself over and over again how it was possible for the two bloody idiots would have a crush at their age, but then she thought of how easily Q sassed them back, didn’t take their bullshit, had jokes as lame as theirs – not as sexual, mind you, but Q loved making puns – and had bent over backwards from them back when they were agents and concluded that those who didn’t were not sane – then again, Q only really acted like that around the two, so one could argue that Q was accidentally encouraging the two to fall for him.

 

Now if Q was straight, the two would have backed off and would have silently walled in self-pity until their interest was caught by someone who was either the opposite gender or swung their way, but the young Quartermaster had always brought a male date for the balls thrown by MI6 and just in case anyone had any doubts about the sex he preferred, he furiously made out with the last one in the middle of the floor and then disappeared even before the song was done playing.   

 

To say that Alec and James were furious when news of Q having been dumped – he had told R in confidence about that, but they were in a building filled to the brim with spies – was a serious understatement. They had wanted to go after the man since Q was down and unresponsive to their jokes for an entire week, but held back from doing so because they were aware of the fact that it would be seen as creepy, a complete turn off – if Q was even turned on – and more than a red flag.

 

But would they still have enough of a brain to not overreact when Q posed naked? No, they definitely didn’t which mean that they – MI6 – had to keep who was what month a secret from them to ensure that hell didn’t break out. They were careful to the point where they did not refer to any of the subjects by their names in the common e-mails they sent out to keep everyone updated with how the project was going – the addresses everyone had where also new ones that had the month’s name, R more than understanding when she was asked to take a break from her important projects to do them.

 

It was decided that the two agents were going to be shot – not like that, although Lord knew that they still managed to test everyone's patience even though they had been retired from the active part of the double oh programme – in another part of the building which confused and annoyed the photographer. And then he actually met the two and understood why they had to be kept separated from the others. He also regretted agreeing to let them to have props – not to mention that he was put in his place when he so much as opened his mouth to ask them to change positions to more suggestive ones.

 

Alec, the fire-obsessed Russian that had an adversity towards placed that were too hot like he walking contradiction he was, was the first one to go in and as he was supposed to be the sexy welder, he was given a real blowtorch curiosity. Not only did he accidentally manage to melt one of the light stands, but he also almost gave himself a very serious burn on a very special place of his body because he thought covering that part of his body with flames would be a wonderful idea.

 

True, the picture came out looking gorgeous, Alec sweaty and covered in soot, bedroom eyes thrown at the camera as he smirked suggestively, the flame long enough not to look like an exaggeration or an insult and Eve was sure that July would be a favourite, but Alec still ended up being dragged into Medical by Q – Eve had told on him since the moron said James would _take care_ of it – and getting an earful for his stunt.

 

The scolding was meant to be a disciplinary action, but everyone knew that Alec took it as a treat especially since he had Q’s full attention focused on him. The careful, slim fingers constantly rearranged the thin sheet over the affected area together with the green eyes that refused to leave him also helped lessen the punishment, although when it dawned on Alec that Q was genuinely worried for him, he felt bad. He didn’t apologize and he made puns about eggs and sausages being well done, but he did look guilty which was a lot more than usual.

 

James was up next and as he was Mister October, he insisted that they gave a Day of the dead feeing to his page instead of Halloween one that they had originally envisioned. His face was painted to resemble that of a skeleton and was given a staff, a black veil, and a throne made out of half-wilted flowers.

 

“A testimony to your humongous ego,” Alec teased as he watched James trying to find a proper spot on his chair. “I do hope they didn’t use any roses in there.”

 

Placing one leg over the edge of flowery seat and letting the other one hand to the side, James grinned as he moved a part of the vail in his lap to cover just enough to leave to the imagination while draping the other part over his neck. “Which one of us isn’t allowed to touch himself unless it is to rub in a nonsexual way that nasty smelling cream?” He purred, holding his staff – the one made out of wood – between three fingers as he gently tapped Alec’s forehead with it.

 

He ended up to a rash between his cheeks due to an unknown allergy to an exotic flower and Alec literally rolled around on the ground, laughing, while Q was the responsible one as always. He dutifully took notes from the doctor about what type of treatment the agent needed to follow and how many times he was supposed to rub ointment so he could know at what hours he was going to spam James with text messages.

 

“How the bloody hell you two are still alive is a complete mystery to me,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose

 

Alec pulled himself up from the floor and threw his arm around Q’s shoulder, giving him a strong squeeze that made some of his bones pop in sweet tension release. “The second I find a mirror for you to gaze upon, it shan’t be a secret anymore.”

 

“He fell asleep watching a silly movie last night because we ran out of batteries,” James said from the bed, throwing a pillow at Alec’s head.

 

Q didn’t have time for their pillow fight as he was supposed to be next, but he could never really have an easy day. An agent got his cover blown in Spain so he was forced to drop everything in order to bring him home safe and to try to save as much as the mission as he could. The whole project ended up taking two weeks, but no one complained – they simply walked around on eggshells around James and Alec who grew more and more curious as to whom Mister December was and what had happened to him to warrant this delay.

 

“What are you two going on about?” Q asked without looking up from what he was doing because of course the two had found their way into his domain, taking up all the space on the sofa that was originally put there for him to use after they made sure that he wasn’t actually doing anything that was life or death related.

 

“It seems that we’re missing Mister December,” Alec said and Q hummed in a disinterested way as he felt around his desk for something, “and we were wondering if maybe you need help with that?”

 

“Well,” Q started and both Alec and James were in front of his desk in a flash, trying to look casual and relaxed even if their eyes were filled with excitement, “if you see a screwdriver with a green and black handle lying around, could you give it to me?”

 

James rolled his eyes and plucked the coveted object from a pile of gun parts, dangling it in front of Q. “We were asking if you needed our help with Mister December.”

 

Q furrowed his eyebrows, taking the screwdriver. “I am well aware of the fact that we boffins are seen as little mice with no understanding of social norms, but I assure you that one of the things that’s a breeze for us is posing for a camera.”

 

Both men looked lost. “You have some quirks, but we never thought that you couldn’t pose for a picture,” Alec started slowly, slowly sliding his head between Q and his project to get his attention, James nicking the screwdriver to make sure they kept it. “Why would you think we’d think that?”

 

“Why else would you offer your help with Mister December?” Q asked drily, hands on his hips.

 

“Because his mission went wrong?” James asked unsure, glancing down at Alec for support.

 

“I’m Mister December!” Q snapped. “Just because I am not an agent, active or otherwise, doesn’t mean that I am a walking stick with a bird’s nest for hair.” To prove his point, he threw his aquamarine plaid blazer on the sofa and lifted his white dress shirt to show the men that they really couldn’t count his ribs – James had to slap Alec’s hand to stop him from tracing Q’s chest, he himself having a hard time keeping his hands to himself. “Would you also like me to pose for you and prove that I can?”

 

James stepped on Alec’s foot before he could answer. “We had no idea that _you_ were Mister December.”

 

He hadn’t meant to sound insulted, but if Q’s glare as he angrily struggled to rearrange his shirt and messier hair was anything to go by, he was in hot water. “Well, pick your jaws off of the floors and wrap your minds around the idea that a boffin can also be chosen for a calendar in which you posed.”

 

They were promptly kicked out of his department and all Eve needed to know that the little jig was up was a glance at them over the cameras as they quickly made their way up to her office. Why couldn’t the building explode when you wanted it to?

 

“You can’t make Q get naked in front of a complete stranger,” was the first thing that came out of Alec’s mouth, meeting Eve’s expectation without a single second’s delay.

 

“No one is making the Quartermaster do anything,” she said drily. “Now get off my desk before you spill coffee over my computer and try to act your age.” She turned to glance at James – who was the voice of reason in this relationship, something that said just how dangerous and unstable the pair was when something bad happened – narrowing her eyes. “Should I call the Quartermaster over and inform him that you two have something against a choice he made?”

 

“You can’t tell me that you agree to the _Quartermaster_ posing nude in a calendar you plan on selling all over the world?” He asked and Eve hated to admit that she shared that part of his concerned.

 

Still, Q was not someone who was active in the actual field and no one really would have believed that he was the Quartermaster – despite the fact that it made sense for in this day and age for someone of Q’s age to have that position, especially since building things and hacking into computer was second nature to him – and M had approved of him appearing in the calendar which made James’ point moot.

 

“You already know the answer to that, James, so why don’t we skip this pointless banter and you tell me directly what you want?” She said instead, covering Alec’s mouth before he could say anything crazy.

 

“If that is the case, then you should get rid of the photographer and let us take care of everything.” Maybe she should have covered James’ mouth as well. No, she shouldn’t have asked him what he wanted and simply kick both of them out of her office.

 

“Out of the question,” was her simple reply, but of course it wasn’t the end of the argument because Q was their own private god and no mortals but them were fit to see him naked and surely the photographer which had been cleared by MI5 _and_ their god had to be a double agent sent there to do away with MI6’s secret weapon. “You’re wasted as an agent,” she said slowly, checking her phone. “And it’s much too late for you amateur photographers as Q is already having his picture taken in the old building.”

 

She had never seen the two run faster than now, not even when they had a guerrilla army shooting after them. They dodged pots and people, slid in elevators in the nick of time, and they even managed to cross the street without getting hit or honked at by a single car even though the traffic was heavy.

 

They almost ran Q down at how fast they were going, the younger man looking at them with little interest as he made sure that his robe was properly tied. “If the first thing that comes out of your mind is an insult or something stupid, I’ll stick you on doorman duty for the next three months,” he warned, but that wasn’t what got them silent.

 

Q was covered in a thin layer of silver and red glitter, his hair messed up on purpose, and the robe showed just enough of his chest and legs to make it clear that he wasn’t wearing anything under it. His lips were also a shade redder and puffier than usual – although thankfully it wasn’t because he had made out with anyone – and the rims of his glasses were also red and white.

 

“Are you posing as a candy cane?” Alec asked, ready to offer to run his tongue over him to make sure that he was as delicious as he looked.

 

Q clicked his tongue and rested his hands on his hips, leaving forward just enough to give the men another peek of his chest. “I know the sucker punchline is right within your reach, Alec, but try to hold it in unless you’re really keen on that security uniform.”

 

This was pretty much an open invitation for a move as far as Alec was concerned and he moved closer to Q, grinning. “You know, uniforms—”

 

“Mister Boothroyd,” the photographer interrupted Alec somehow managed to earn himself an even higher spot on his must-die-in-horrible-pain list even though he was already number one, “we are ready for you whenever you are.”

 

The door was slammed in their faces before they even had a chance to breathe and even though they were tempted to go in and intimidate the photographer into losing his eyesight, they had enough of a brain to stay right where they were. But that didn’t mean that they didn’t push against the door, straining their hearing as much as they could in an attempt to figure out just how many broken bones the man would end up having.

 

“Now, Mister Boothroyd,” the photographer started as he made sure that his main camera was fully charged and that its memory card was empty, “I want to make it clear that we’ll stop the second you feel uncomfortable.”

 

Q smiled and nodded, taking off his robe in one swift move before starting to look for just the right bow that he would wrap around his hips. His original idea was to have a bow wrapped around his member directly but decided against that after three hours of trying to get the bloody thing around himself without getting painfully hard.

 

He finally settled on a big red ribbon after digging through a box for half an hour – he had been tempted to go for the one with mistletoe on it, but decided against it as he wasn’t particularly happy to have a really sharp safety pin that refused to stay shut that close to his genitalia – and flopped on the ground, busying himself with trying to get the loop to be as full as he wanted it to be.

 

“Oh, that’s a really good position,” the photographer chimed in. “We should also get the ribbon’s tails loosely wrapped your legs.” Q started to do just that while the man started to arrange gift boxes around him, tugging the plastic Christmas tree closer to him before taking a step back and frowning.

 

“Is anything wrong?” Q asked, looking down in his lap. “Should I add more glitter over my underwear? Or should I just take them off all together and apply the glitter directly over the skin?” He jumped when he heard the door violently open and then slam shut not even a second later, frowning when the photographer said that it must have been a draft. “Or two giant bags of wind that have nothing better to do,” he grumbled, cradling his head on one of his left arm, starting to suck an actual candy cane.

 

“Oh, that’s perfect!” The photographer exclaimed, pulling a chair and getting up on it. “Now tilt your head slightly to the left while keeping your eyes on the camera.”

 

“Like this?”

 

The photographer nodded and started to take pictures. “Now I need you to look at me like I am your lover and you need me to do what you’re doing to the candy cane.” He stopped taking pictures because the door opened and closed again and this time, Q, threw a box against it.

 

“If that door opens again, feel free to look the bloody thing,” Q instructed loud enough for anyone outside to hear, picking up another candy cane because he had snapped the other in half. “Should I also let them see just the tip of my tongue on the top of the cane?”

 

The man nodded. “And place one hand over one of the tail, like you are about to untie yourself.”

 

***

 

Eve drummed her fingers over her desk, glaring at the calendar that clearly had the month of December ripped out of it. Her office was stocked to be brim with opened boxes of calendars that were a month short and across from her stood an embarrassed looking photographer, brushing his fingers over the slot of his camera that was supposed to house the stolen memory card and right next to him, a very pissed off Quartermaster that still had glitter on him despite the photoshoot having taken place three days prior.

 

“I have no idea how this happened,” the poor man was saying, worrying his lower lip. “I still had the card and I checked to make sure that they had all the months before giving the boxes to the two men you sent over to my studio.”

 

Q’s shifted his attention from Eve to the man. “Tell me, did those two men look a lot like Mister July and Mister October from the calendar?”

 

They saw recognition fill his eyes and almost hear the noise of everything clicking in his mind before lowering his head. “I am so incredibly, terribly sorry about this, Miss Moneypenny, Mister Boothroyd. I thought they looked familiar even with the beards and moustaches on, but who in their right minds would want to steal a page from a calendar?”

 

Someone who wasn’t in their right mind and the former double oh agents were obviously off their rockers. “Do not worry about anything, Mister Hung,” Q said reassuringly, squeezing the man’s shoulder. “We’ll still pay for everything, won’t we Miss Moneypenny?”

 

“But I can’t accept—”

 

“Of course you can,” she interrupted him, flashing him a big smile. “Look, as far as you are concerned, you did your job perfectly and without delay. You took the pictures, made the calendar, and—”

 

“And then two bloody huge arses decided to play a prank and ruined everyone’s hard work,” Q grumbled before he could stop himself, angrily rubbing a patch on his arm that still had glitter on it with a wet napkin. When he got his hands on those two, he was going to castrate them with the help of the pages they stole and then he was going to dip them in a pool filled with medicinal alcohol and salt. “I will have to excuse myself as I have a project that needs my full attention.”

 

He held out his hand and Mister Hung grabbed it, giving him a strong shake. “If you need me to take pictures for anything, I will be more than glad to do it for free. And I won’t take no for an answer, Mister Boothroyd.”

 

Q nodded his thanks as he was in too much of a hurry to argue with the man over this – plus, he was never going to call upon his services as the parties he attended didn’t need professional photographers and the pictures he sent to his friends were either selfies or of some random items that managed to coincide with whatever new theme that had their attention at that moment in time.

 

“Their probably hiding out in their apartment,” Eve called out after him because contrary to popular belief, the Quartermaster didn’t know all the time were the agents were if they weren’t on a mission. “And congratulate them for their hefty donation that covers all of the ruined calendars.”

 

He was going to make the men donate more than that even if he was going to have to reach down their pants and squeeze their balls until they coughed out their bank account and routing numbers.

 

Their doorman gave him a friendly greeting and confirmed that yes, they were in the penthouse and it only really dawned on Q how much time he had spent at their apartment only when he got in the elevator and noticed that they still hadn’t replaced the mirror that Alec had managed to crack with his elbow when Q had helped bring him home after winning a drinking contest against the still active 009.

 

“I really need to stop being their bloody babysitter,” he decided as he started to ring their doorbell, narrowing his eyes in annoyance when he saw a little light coming through the peephole and then shushing, but the door still remained locked. “I am slightly near-sighted, not deaf!” He shouted and started to bang on their door, flinching when the bones in his wrist popped.

 

But that got the door opened and Alec pushing a can of cold beer against his wrist while James struggled to close the door behind them without crushing the foot Q had managed to sneak in to keep them from doing just that.

 

“We should get you to Medical because I think you broke your hand,” Alec said and Q flicked his nose with the wounded hand to prove him wrong. “And you might have also pinched your nerves. James, help me carry him—”

 

Q covered Alec’s mouth and gently hit James in the face with his knee to stop him from trying to get his leg around his middle so he could fully push him out of the apartment. “I put up with so many of your pranks, quirks, and neurotic behaviours,” without the log named James blocking his way, he had no problem walking right inside their apartment and starting to dig around for the evidence, “but for you to ruin a calendar done for charity because I don’t fit your idea of a hot man?”

 

“Q, I have no idea what you are talking about and I assure you  that you got it all wrong,” James started but swallowed the rest of his lie when he got slapped – by accident – with a thick pile of shiny sheets of ‘December’.

 

Q looked triumphant at him before getting down on his keens and half disappearing under their very large bed, pushing out stack upon stack of the missing month. “If I am in the wrong, tell me how all of these things got under here?” He caught a glimpse of the band aids wrapped around their fingers and he made to grab their hands – which they hid behind their backs – and in the struggle that followed, he found himself on top of them, in their bed, looking victoriously down at them as she showed them that he had literally caught them red handed.

 

The awkwardness of the whole situation didn’t really dawn on him until he saw their wolfish grins and felt their other hands rest on his lower back. “We admit that you are not in the wrong about us stealing the calendars,” James whispered, freeing his hand from Q to cup his chin.

                   

“But you are dead wrong about _why_ we did it,” Alec continued, planting a kiss in the palm of his hand before starting to nuzzle it.

 

The two putting the moves on him wasn’t anything new to him, but he was shocked that they were going this far with their little joke to say anything and James took that as an invitation to carry on talking. “We’re not saying that we deserve to see you looking as fragile and needy as you do in that picture, but you have to agree that everyone else is even less worthy than we are.”

 

“How drunk are you?” Q managed to utter after a few moments of nothing but white noise inside his mind, clearly not in full control of it yet because instead of rolling off of them, he leaned forward to smell their breathes, ending up accidentally brushing his lips against Alec’s.

 

That had him jumping out of bed and backing into the door while covering his mouth with his hands, and looking apologetically at James. He had just committed the greatest taboo in the history of MI6 next to treason – he almost kissed one of the men from the most dangerous and strangest couples while the other one was there and he couldn’t blame alcohol because he was so sober that he had minus five units of alcohol in his blood.

 

“I didn’t mean to…” he stammered. “I didn’t want to—”

 

James silenced him by practically teleporting in front of him and also brushing their lips together, smirking as he looked down at him. “Well, I mean to and I want to.”

 

Alec joined them in the corner and gently cupped Q’s head, tilting it back a little to give him an open mouthed kiss. He nibbled on his lower lip as he placed his hand over Q’s stomach while James’ softly caressed his side and watched the scene unfold before him with clear interest. “Our ‘no kissing’ policy doesn’t apply to you, Q,” James whispered, drumming his fingers just above Q’s waistline “In fact,” Q’s heart almost gave out when he felt the soft lips right over his, the smell of cognac and expensive aftershave washing over him, “in your case, it is more than welcomed, appreciated, and encouraged.”

 

Q remained motionless and barely remember how to breathe, so James decided to give an impulse by brushing his tongue over his lower lip. Without realizing it, he parted his lips and wrapped his arms around his neck, getting lost in the spicy taste the man held. He let out a whimper when he felt another pair of lips on his neck, just a hint of teeth grazing him and then an outright moan when Alec started sucking softly on his Adam’s apple.

 

But James wasn’t going to be outdone, especially since it seemed that Q had forgotten about him, breaking the kiss with him in favour of tilting his head further back to give Alec more room, gently scratching the man’s scalp as he let out little noises, so he dropped on his knees and started to draw lazy circles around his bellybutton, amused that it still had a bit of glitter in it.

 

A shiver, a louder moan, and a definitive confirmation that he was enjoying what they were doing, but just as they both started to undo Q’s shirt, their younger lover-to-be flinched. That was more than enough to stop both of them in their tracks and pull back, although they were still within arm’s length just in case his knees decided to buckle just then.

 

“Bloody phone,” Q murmured and took out his phone from his back pocket, quickly pushing some buttons before closing it and looking at them with swollen lips, messy hair, and askew glasses, hickeys starting to appear on his neck. “Okay, where were we?”

 

Alec grinned and wrapped his arms around him, pushing the tips of his fingers in the back of Q’s pants. “Well, I believe we were showing you all the things we can do on top of kissing and on top of each other,” he said and made to kiss him, but Q blocked him with is hand and clicked his tongue, his eyes cold.

 

“No, you were trying to get out of the whole calendar incident with a one-night stand,” he corrected him and started to arrange his clothes. “And don’t think I’ll let my earlier weakness be held against me—”

 

“We’d never hold anything against you,” James interrupted him, cupping his face again and brushing his lower lip with his thumb. “And make no mistake; this isn’t us trying to get out of anything, Q. In fact,” a grin and Q got ready to groan at the horrible line that he was sure would follow, “we are currently trying to get into something, if you catch our drift.”

 

Q snorted, shaking his head. For the likes of him, he couldn’t quite explain why his interest in them managed to go beyond over how hot they were, but there he was, ready and willing to ignore two of his rules – no co-workers and no one-night stands – just because it was them.

 

“You,” Alec said suddenly and Q furrowed his brow in confusion. “We’re trying to get into you or rather, you into us and into our bed and into our relationship,” he cleared up, moving to nuzzle his neck, gently scratching at a glittery patch on his shoulder. “And James already sent a check to cover the damage we did.”

 

“What about Mr. Hung’s memory card?” Q asked, drumming his fingers against the back of Alec’s neck, licking his lips and the tip of James’ thumb. “And Alec’s nasty burn? And that rash you like to pretend you don’t have?” And now his brain was finally working right.

 

Alec started to laugh, his breath tickling Q to the point of sliding down the wall and having him curling up in James’ arms in an attempt to get away. “His name is Hung and he takes porno pictures?” The supposed grown man gasped out, rubbing his head against Q’s, winking at the amused James. “I’ll buy the illustrious Mr. Hung a new memory card.”

 

Q narrowed his eyes when nothing else followed, barely managing to ignore the way James had started to gently nibble on his earlobe. “And?” he prompted and flicked Alec’s nose when the man turned his head towards him with the clear intention of kissing him. “I suppose you would have been using your mouth while James put his back into it?”

 

The two seemed to be having a glare battle for a few moments before they both lowered their heads. “How about we dine until we’re both up to the task and we also get you to apply the ointments just to be sure we do it right?” Alec tried and Q chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled himself up.

 

“No to the rubbing and yes to the dining only if you give the man his original memory card back with all of the pictures on it intact and uncensored,” he counteroffered, hands on his hips. “And if a single pixel on my picture is missing, you can both take the tubes and shove them right up your—”

 

He was interrupted by Alec’s lips over his and almost all of his anger was forgotten by how slowly James was grinding against him. But Mister Hung got his card back the following day and one week later, he was chasing the two around the two buildings and banning markers left and right, getting his energy back during the dinners made by both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love and if there is anyone who wants to draw the three calendar pages, you'll have my eternal gratitude and worship.


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